Nappies
by Onesimus42
Summary: Charles has to take care of a difficult situation in Elsie's absence. A little drabble set after Childish Pranks. Based on a challenge from Batwings79.


_**Once again, a fic inspired by one of Batwings79's photoshopped photos. I will have said photo as my avatar and on LJ. I hope you enjoy it. This follows my 'Childish Pranks' AU. Hopefully it will be enjoyable without having read that, though. This is set around 1928.**_

_**They do not belong to me, no matter how much I wish that they did.**_

What a noise! He had thought the telephone ringer was jarring, but it was nothing compared to this shrill cry. Charles was fairly certain that his ears were going to burst from it. Not that he hadn't been in noisy situations before; the Halls, balls, and even the bustle downstairs before a big dinner, but this was definitely the loudest thing he'd ever experienced in his life. Who would have thought that something that weighed barely a stone could produce this much volume? He paced back and forth for the tenth time trying to make the racket stop. As he sang softly and then a little louder, he noticed that the wail softened somewhat, and he began to sway gently as he walked. Patting her gently on the bottom, he was surprised at the squishy feeling and sound. He hoped fervently that what he thought was the case was not. Sniffing the air experimentally, he realized that his worst fears had been realized. When would Elsie get back? She must have had to milk the blooming cow. Fetching a warm bottle couldn't possibly take this long. The wail began again in earnest, and he knew what he must do.

Taking a deep breath, which was an incredible mistake he realized as he coughed from the pure stench, he steeled himself for the task ahead. After all, he'd come up through the ranks of the staff. In his day, he'd had to empty chamber pots, change grown men's clothes, serve dinner to crotchety old ladies, and any number of highly unpleasant tasks. He could do this and would have to if he ever wanted the wailing to stop. He spotted the clean stack of nappies with some cloths beside it. Snagging a clean nappie and a handful of cloths with the tips of his fingers, he laid little Beryl down gently. Grimacing, he lifted her dress and then removed the pins so that he could remove the sodden garment. It was worse than he thought. What had Daisy and David been feeding this child? She surely had lost at least 2 pounds from the looks of it. He certainly regretted his suggestion that Elsie and he watch the child while her parents enjoyed the servants' ball.

It didn't take long to accomplish the first part of his task. He quickly had the offending garment off and little Beryl clean. He bundled the soiled nappie and cloths in a towel and got them as far away from him as he could without actually taking his hand off of his pint-sized charge. Then he realized his second (or was it third) mistake of the evening. He'd been in such a hurry to get her out of that horrible smelling garment that he'd not paid attention to how it was fastened. This job was usually left to Elsie when they watched their grand-niece. He looked at the rectangle of white cloth in puzzlement for a few moments, along with the pins in his hand. He was just a little afraid to use those. The crying had just stopped and knowing his luck, he was sure to poke her with one of the pins and set her off again. Hmmm, perhaps if he wrapped one nappie just so, and then another this way… Yes; that would certainly do the trick. Very proud of himself for coming up with an adequate solution, he snuggled Beryl on his shoulder again. He felt her little hand clutch his jacket and could tell by the droop of her head and soft snores that she was finally satisfied and would hopefully be quiet for a little while.

He settled himself down in the armchair to wait, and Elsie finally arrived too late with the warmed bottle. Giving her his best exasperated look, he whispered, "Did you have to invent fire to warm the bottle, dear wife? You're a bit late to be of any use. I've finally got her asleep."

Elsie predictably rolled her eyes at him, "It does take time, dear husband. You'd not want to give her a bellyache from milk that's too cold or scald her tongue if it's too hot, would you? Here, let me take her, and I'll lay her down to sleep. The bottle will stay warm for a bit longer. If she wakes, we'll give it to her."

She took Beryl gently, and whispered soothing words to keep her from waking and laid her in the bassinet. She was just pulling a blanket over her when she noticed the unusual arrangement of her undergarments.

"Charles," she began with amusement evident in her voice, "Did you have to change anything while I was gone?"

"I most certainly did," he answered, nodding vigorously, "And judging from the state she was in, it's no wonder that she was crying."

"What on earth have you done to her bottom?"

"Well," he began, rubbing the top of his ear as he came over to look down at her over Elsie's shoulder, "I wasn't exactly sure how to arrange things, so…."

"So you just decided to wrap her bottom up like a turban?" Elsie finished for him, "Did you not use the pins?"

"I was afraid I might stick her. I certainly didn't want to set her off again."

Elsie clicked her tongue at him and held her hand out. He handed her the pins, and she proceeded to quickly and efficiently remove the turban from little Beryl's bottom and put a new nappie on, pinning it neatly.

"Did you pay attention for future reference?"

"I most certainly never plan on doing that again," he whispered sternly, "Next time, I fetch the bottle, and you stay with the little siren."

"How did you finally get her calm?" Elsie asked as she turned to face him.

"Oh, I just danced with her a little," he said smiling and placing his hand on her waist.

"Just danced?" she asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He bent to kiss her lightly behind her left ear, "I may have sung a bit as well."

"I thought you only sang for me," she whispered in mock offense.

"Well," he answered, "you may have a bit of competition now. But I believe I could be persuaded to sing a bit for you as well."

Placing her feet on his, she lifted herself up to give him a soft kiss filled with promise. "Persuaded?" she whispered against his lips.

"Persuaded," he nodded and sang softly as they danced with Beryl's soft snores in the background.

_**Reviews are appreciated much more than dirty nappies.**_


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